


There'd Be No Distance

by imogenbynight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (blink and you'll miss it levels of implied), Angst, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Resolutions, SPN Holiday Mixtape Challenge, Sam Jody Claire & Alex are mentioned but don't really appear, implied background Sam/Jody, inspired by a song, written prior to 12.08 so just pretend that didn't happen >_>
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 15:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8807020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imogenbynight/pseuds/imogenbynight
Summary: In which Cas is lonesome on New Year’s Eve, and some misunderstandings get cleared up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SPN Holiday Mixtape Challenge!  
> This ficlet was inspired by The New Year by Death Cab For Cutie.
> 
> **edit** I thought I'd quickly check to see if I had any comments before I go to bed, and discovered that for some reason only the first half of the first scene is appearing, despite the whole lot being pasted and the total wordcount appearing. Trying to figure out what happened and fix it. Bear with me.
> 
> **edit** it was this guy fucking up the code. **edit again** i pasted the emoji in question into the notes box like a damn fool and was then surprised when the same thing happened here. anyway. apparently ao3 doesn't like emojis. cas is now texting with basic emoticons, and i'm gonna go sleep.

As he pushes open the creaking door of the room he’s rented for the night, Cas comes to realize that there are three things wrong with the name of the Great Blue Budget Palace. First, the building is squat and dilapidated. It sits close to the roadside opposite a football field and is flanked on three sides by a gas station, a greasy spoon, and a barely running river. The exterior is painted an obtrusive shade of puce. 

The room smells of mildew and stale pizza, and it’s costing him nineteen dollars to stay here tonight. The price is the only honest part of the name.

Outside, the engine of the pickup truck he’s been driving since he crash-landed through a Mystery Spot billboard is still slowly ticking as it cools, and Cas casts it a glance as he wonders if he’d be better off back behind the wheel.

He’s only been alone for half the day. Around nine in the morning, Crowley received a call from Rowena and told him he’d be on his own for a while before disappearing from the passenger seat. Cas was irritated by the lack of explanation for all of three seconds before he realized that this meant he was finally getting a break from Crowley’s constant nattering, and smiled to himself in relief before switching the radio to something he could stand to listen to. 

There was no point in continuing on to their planned destination now that he was on his own. As loath as he is to admit it, he needs Crowley for backup. Without access to the myriad eyes of his true form, now barely a shadow of its former glory, he needs the extra set that the king of Hell affords him. Going after Lucifer alone would be suicide, even if this is just a reconnaissance mission.

Even so, a text message was what finally made him pull over onto the dusty shoulder around noon. Ahead, a road sign informed him that the next gas station was in five miles.

He slipped his phone from his pocket and thumbed the screen.

 **Claire: __**Hi Cas. How’s it going? Will you be there tonight?

Cas frowned in confusion, and searched for the corresponding emoji when he typed out his response.

 **Cas:** _Where? Is everything alright?_ :-(

It took Claire nearly ten minutes to write her reply. He watched as the series of dots repeatedly appeared and disappeared along the bottom of the screen. Cas was expecting a long message. What he received was two words long.

 **Claire: __**Never mind.

The brief reply left him feeling oddly bereft and a little suspicious that Claire was hiding something from him, but with no further correspondence he’d resolved to ignore it and continue on. Eventually, he reached Washington, and though he had no need for sleep in his current form, he was tired. The Great Blue Palace, as miserable as it looked, had seemed preferable to driving any further with no company or destination.

Now, as he closes the door behind him and takes in the waterstained carpet and peeling wallpaper, he wonders if perhaps his decision was a little hasty.

\---

Across the street, the football field is bustling with activity. A fair, presumably celebrating the approaching New Year, has attracted what Cas assumes is most of the town’s population. He watches them for a while; the families, the groups of friends. All laughing and joking, children shrieking as they chase one another around and get under their parents feet as the sun slowly sinks.

Among the crowd of cheerful souls, Cas senses a burst of panic and fear, but by the time he locates the source it’s been taken care of. He watches as a man with a lovely smile kneels to speak to the girl who’d been so frightened. Letting his human vision dim for a moment, Cas observes the scene as it happens in the ether. The girl’s soul, a soft shade of violet, is rolling like a stormcloud; the man’s is a warm shade of gold, and though it lacks the tinge of jade, the way it reaches out to comfort makes him think of Dean. It’s seconds before the man is standing again, turning on the spot with his neck craned, and then he’s waving a frantic young woman over. 

The child and woman reunite, and the man walks away to join his waiting friends. Cas steps away from the window, letting the curtain fall back into place.

Though he tells himself it was just the soul that has made him think of Dean, he knows that he hardly needs a reason. It’s rare for a few hours to pass without some memory of him flitting through Cas’ mind, and though he attempts to think of other people as frequently, it doesn’t come naturally. He constantly catches himself wondering what Dean is doing, if he’s alright. What he would think of the place Castiel is visiting at any given moment. What his opinion is of the song that is playing on the car radio.

If Dean were here, Cas decides, he’d claim that county fairs are a waste of time and money, but he’d be easy enough to convince to cross the street. Cas can smell the food stalls from here.

Taking a seat at the table, Cas looks at Claire’s message again. He flicks through the others, too. Looks at one from Sam telling him to call Dean after Mary left; one from Dean asking him if he’s still playing good-cop bad-cop with “the king of the douchebags.” 

Cas had replied _for now_ , and Dean had written back to say _Call me when that changes_. Now, Cas stares at that message for so long that the screen times out and goes dark, and he has to tap it back to brightness, again and again.

He’s certain Dean only meant for him to call when he needed help and Crowley was no longer available, but the quiet of the room is unbearable, and there are only seven phone numbers in his contacts list. 

One is Claire, of course. One is Jody Mills, who he’s yet to speak with directly, and another is the landline for the house where they live. The fourth is Sam. The last three are all Dean. His regular cell, his other cell, and his other, other cell.

 _Just in case_ , he’d said as he’d keyed it in, giving Cas a wink. _Wouldn’t want you worrying if I lost the other one._

Cas flips through the seven numbers, though he already knows who he’s going to call.

When Dean answers, he sounds drunk. He also sounds like he’s smiling, and that thought makes Cas' own lips twitch up at the corners. Even if he can’t be there to see it, it pleases him to think that Dean is in good spirits.

“Cas!” Dean exclaims, and there’s the distinct sound of laughter and raucous conversation in the background. “Are you here? I figured you weren’t coming. Just let me come open the--”

“I’m not there. I’m in Washington.”

The background noise cuts out abruptly, and Cas imagines that Dean has stepped into another room.

“Oh. Um. Okay. What’s up?”

The happy note has gone from his voice. Cas’ smile fades.

“Nothing,” Cas says.

“Nothing?”

“I… I’m not entirely sure why I called.”

It’s a lie, of course. But even the thought of admitting that he’s only calling to cure his loneliness is embarrassing, and he can’t bring himself to do it.

“Something’s wrong,” Dean insists. “I can tell.”

“Nothing’s wrong. What are you doing?”

“New Year’s Eve party at the bunker, remember? I told you about it days ago.”

He had told him, Cas realizes. _We’ve earned some downtime_ , he’d said the last time they’d spoken, earlier in the week. _So we figured we’d have a party. Invite everyone around to the bunker, have a night where none of us have to think about monsters, demons, angels, any of that crap._

Cas had been distracted on the call, thanks to Crowley making obnoxious gestures at him from the passenger seat, and had simply said, _that sounds like a good idea,_ before it promptly slipped his mind.

“Of course, I apologize. I’ll let you get back--”

“Whoa, hey. Wait. What’s going on?”

“You wanted time away. I forgot. I shouldn’t have called.”

“Time away from _hunting_ , Cas. What are you--”

“You told me that you and Sam had earned a break, and that you didn’t want to deal with the supernatural for a few days.”

“I said _we’ve_ earned a break,” Dean says, an incredulous note to his voice. “That meant you, too.”

“It did?”

“Of course it did.”

“You included angels in the list, Dean. How was I supposed to take it?”

Dean groans.

“Shit, not like that. I don’t want time away from you, man. I’ve had too much time away from you already.”

Dean goes abruptly silent for a moment.

“Sammy’d say the same thing,” he adds. “I just, uh. It’s been a while, is all.”

“Too long,” Cas agrees, and stares down at the table. It’s scuffed and worn, like everything else in this room. “I wish I’d understood. I’d much rather be there.”

“Yeah, well. No big. I probably could have been clearer. Figured you were busy, anyway.”

“I have been. Crowley left today, though, so I’m just…”

“Killing time?”

“For lack of a better description, yes.” They’re silent for a moment. Cas sighs. “I miss my wings.”

“Cas--”

“That’s not new. I always miss my wings. But right now the feeling is particularly strong.”

“Why?”

“Distance didn’t matter when I could fly.”

“Oh… well, uh…”

“Being by your side used to be as simple as a thought, but now… hours of driving, at least. Sometimes days. It’s… a downgrade, as you’d say. I should have flown to you more when I was still able.”

“Well, um... maybe we could make that a resolution. You know what a New Year’s Resolution is?”

“Yes.”

“So, uh. That’s mine.”

“Flying more frequently?”

“Being with you.”

“Oh.”

“I mean. Shit, that sounded-- look, I’m kinda buzzed right now. I just mean-- we’ve gotta hang out more. Not just when the world’s ending.”

“I’d like that.”

“Okay. Okay. So, um. What’s yours?”

“My resolution?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Okay.”

“I could stand to be a little braver, perhaps. A little more honest.”

“About what?”

Dean sounds a little wary, and it strikes Cas that without context, Dean is likely worried that there’s some awful new secret between them.

“Nothing bad,” Cas hurries to clarify. “Just... there’s things that I keep to myself that I wish I were brave enough to share.”

“You should.”

“It’s not the new year yet. I don’t have to start until midnight has passed.”

“Yeah, but we won’t still be on the phone, then. Gimme a sneak preview.”

A reckless part of Cas wants to just say it. To let the words he can feel on the tip of his tongue tumble out. He doesn’t.

“There’s a town fair going on accross the street from my motel,” Cas tells him instead, pulling the curtain aside to look out at the crowd. “I was watching the people earlier. One of them reminded me of you.”

“Yeah? Dashing good looks, winning all the carnival prizes, swarmed by beautiful women?”

Cas huffs a small laugh, looking down at the table.

“He helped a lost child find her sister. He had a bright soul.” 

“You give me too much credit, Cas.”

“He was alo extremely attractive, now that I think of it. I suppose that might have influenced me to make the connection.”

“Hah, you think I’m _extremely attractive_ ,” Dean says, but there’s a strange tremor in his voice that makes Cas worry that he’s not as amused by the thought as he’s pretending to be. That he heard the truth in the statement, and is disturbed by it. Cas gulps.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said that,” he frowns and looks down at his lap. “Would you believe me if I said I was drunk, too?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I, um. I don’t mind.”

“Alright.”

They’re quiet for a moment, and Cas feels tension like a physical presence, a taut string between them threatening to break. He doesn’t realize that he’s holding his breath until a loud crack outside makes him gasp, and bright green and blue light shines in through the curtains.

When he looks back outside, the sky is awash with color.

“Fireworks already?” Dean asks.

“Yes.”

“Seems pretty early, even for the kids.”

Cas glances at the glowing alarm clock.

“Is ten o’clock considered early?”

“I thought you said you were in Washington.”

“Washington, Kansas,” Cas says.

“ _Not_ Washington state,” Dean says slowly. “You’re-- dude. Cas. That’s like an hour away from the bunker.”

“Yes.”

“You’re only-- What the hell are you still--”

There’s the sound of a set of keys, and a door opening. Briefly, Cas hears the happy chatter of Sam and Claire and someone else that he doesn’t recognize, and then it fades as Dean moves in the opposite direction.

“Dean?”

“You’re only an hour away, Cas.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna come meet you.”

“You’re drunk,” Cas reminds him. “By your own admission. Which means you’re probably twice as drunk as someone else saying that.”

“Wow, thanks a lot.”

“You can’t drive, Dean.”

“Well, can you?”

The question startles him, and he nods before he manages to reply aloud.

“Yes.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Start driving. You can be here by midnight.”

“Why do I need to be there by midnight?”

“Just get here,” Dean says. Pleads. “Drive safe. There’s morons all over the road on New Year’s.”

“I will.”

\----

Dean’s leaning against the wall by the bunker’s door when Cas drives up, and the sight is the closest thing Cas has ever known to home. He feels his hands tighten around the steering wheel as he pulls over.

The tension he’d felt on the phone is back, and it’s even worse up close. He has the feeling that if he’s not careful, a breath could make it snap.

Dean rubs his hands on his jeans and pushes away from the wall when Cas climbs out of his truck. He smiles. It’s a nervous looking smile.

“Hey,” he says.

His eyes crinkle at the edges, and Cas feels warmed to the core.

“Hello, Dean,” he says.

“So, uh… everyone’s gone up the hill behind the bunker to wait for the fireworks,” Dean tells him, gesturing vaguely with his thumb. “There’s a bit of a cliff where the trees end. You can see for miles.”

“Have you been waiting long?”

“Not really,” Dean says, then glances away. Shakes his head and huffs. “Actually, yeah. Pretty much since we got off the phone.”

“Weren’t you bored?”

Dean shrugs.

“I was thinking.”

“What about?”

“About what I was gonna say to you when you got here.”

“Did you think of something?”

“Yeah,” Dean says.

“Well?”

“You’re making me wait until midnight. Figured I’d make you wait, too.”

He seems nervous. It endearing. Cas smiles at him, and Dean smiles right back.

“Should we join the others?”

For a moment, it looks like Dean might say no, but then he nods and slips his hands into his pockets and starts walking. Cas falls into step beside him.

The ground is steep and rocky beside the bunker, and by the time it levels out Dean is breathing heavily. A little way ahead, through the sparse trees, Cas can make out the shapes of Sam and Mary and Claire, and two other women who he guesses must be Jody and Alex. They’ve set up a small fire pit, and from here Cas has to focus to hear them talking. Mary is telling Claire and Alex about the first concert she ever attended. Jody is whispering something to Sam that would make Cas blush if he let his guard down. As he glances over at Dean, catching him staring right back, he’s tempted to do just that.

He stops walking, and Dean does too.

“I’m glad to be here,” he says.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Good.”

Dean rubs at the back of his neck.

“So, I had an idea. To help make my resolution work.”

Cas waits, and Dean chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment before he explains.

“You could stay. Don’t have to worry about getting back to me--to us, I mean. Don’t have to worry about getting back if you don’t leave in the first place.”

“You’d want that?”

“Don’t know how many times I gotta tell you, man.”

“You’ve only said that once,” Cas argues, squinting at him. “Just now.”

Dean shakes his head.

“Dude, I told you that years ago. Told you before Sucrocorp, and in Purgatory. A million times in Purgatory, if you count all the prayers. Told you outside that warehouse where we found Alfie. Told you in Lucifer’s crypt, and after you fell. Told you--”

“You need me,” Cas says. “You told me you needed me.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought…”

“What?”

“I thought you just meant you needed me to help.”

“Fuck-- Cas. No.”

“No?”

“I mean, yeah, I need your help sometimes. Of course I do. You’re a goddamn badass with superpowers. But that’s not the whole reason. It’s not even the _main_ reason.”

“Then what is?”

“Just…” In the dark, Dean’s eyes flicker over Cas' face, searching for something before he pushes out a heavy breath. “Fuck. I don’t wanna wait.”

“What?”

“I don’t wanna wait for midnight.”

There’s something determined in his eyes when he steps forward, boots crunching over leaves, and raises one hand to Cas’ shoulder. It’s closer to Cas’ neck than usual. His thumb is gentle where it grazes the skin of Cas’ throat.

“This okay?” Dean asks him, and Cas is almost afraid to answer in case this isn’t what it seems like. But the possibility has him aching, shaking where he stands, so he nods.

“Yes,” he breathes.

Dean’s eyes go wide as though he wasn’t expecting the reply, and Cas can’t help but wonder if they’ve both been thinking the same thing this entire time. He lifts his own hand to mirror Dean’s. Dean’s pulse thunders against his palm, and Cas wracks his brain for some clue from the plethora of knowledge Metatron dumped in his head. Some idea of what Dean could mean by any of this. 

Something that isn’t what he desperately wants it to mean.

He sees hundreds of stories that go just as their had, and they all end with kisses at midnight.

Cas takes a step closer. Dean’s eyes flutter briefly closed.

“I don’t want to wait for midnight, either,” Cas tells him, and he only waits a moment before giving in, lifting his free hand to Dean’s side and pulling him close.

They’re still kissing when the fireworks start. Neither of them notice.


End file.
